Bats in the belfry
by Amelia Mills
Summary: "Arthur Kirkland was a good man, craziness and all. At least before he snapped anyway". England wakes up to find himself in a padded cell. Is he insane? What did he do to get there? T for now, but may become M later for violence. No pairings  sorry .
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is my first Hetalia fanfic. Hope you like it! ^J^

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><p>"Well, what's wrong with him then?"<p>

The doctor sighed, not particularly enjoying the presence of the man in front of him. The pair stood in a long white tiled hallway that smelled strongly of cleaning materials. The doctor lifted up his clipboard bearing his most recent patient's charts and adjusted his thick glasses on his sharp nose.

"As you know, Mr. Jones, we haven't had much time to observe him since he was brought in, but from what we can tell, he's a very disturbed individual."

"Plenty of people are disturbed, but that doesn't mean they belong in here!" Alfred replied loudly.

The doctor winced at the man's volume.

"No, but when you're a paranoid schizophrenic with a-"

"I don't speak quack," Alfred interrupted rudely. "I got the paranoid bit."

God, he hated politicans. The man was apparently some sort of representative for America, but how he had gotten such a high status was beyond the doctor. He was arrogant and as dumb as a box of nails.

"It means, Mr. Jones, that isn't only paranoid, but he hears voices in his head and... well, to be frank, he sees things that aren't there. He believes that fairies, unicorns and other fictional creatures are real and that he, himself can perform magic."

The doctor lifted his self important gaze from the charts to gauge the American's reaction to the news. There wasn't much of one. The blond young man's already narrowed eyes narrowed even further and his expression became hard as he looked towards the door to their side. It was behind there that the object of their discussion was being held. Other than that there was nothing. No denial, no accusations, nor concern for his coworker.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice earlier, quite honestly," the doctor replied superciliously.

Alfred F. Jones snorted. "Oh, most of us knew he was a bit off, it didn't really worry us. But Arthur Kirkland was a good man, craziness and all. At least before he snapped anyway," his tone suddenly changed from half amused to angry.

"Hm," was the doctor's curt reply. There was a brief pause and then Alfred gave a loud sigh.

"Well! Since you can't tell me anything useful, I'll leave him to you. Make sure he gets what he deserves." he said looking angry and defeated.

The doctor blinked. There had been something sinister in the way had said that. "Excuse me?"

Alfred remained silent while the doctor just continued to gawk at the younger man. What was he insinuating? And this person was supposed to be a political representative! It was more than a little worrisome. Jones noted the disapproving look and gave a little chuckle as he turned away on his heel.

"Keep me posted."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

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><p>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-<p>

England groaned long and low. He was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so lethargic. And stiff. He felt like he was in the middle of the worst hangover in history. But he hadn't been drinking. Had he? The country groaned again as he realized he was having trouble concentrating. A look at his surroundings would clear things up.

England opened his heavy eyelids to a blinding white glare and he shut them immediately with a hiss of pain. Why wouldn't the light just shut up? Momentarily, he tried again, more slowly this time and peeking only through his fingers until his eyes were better adjusted, but what he saw was less than encouraging. The United Kingdom of Great Britian and Northen Ireland lay on his stomach in a small white padded room.

"What?" he questioned as he took in the small unfurnished room with growing unease. The whole room was no more than four meters by three and was completely padded in white semi-cushiony material, except for one wall where a small glass window was visible and where, he realized, the door must be. England felt his heart thumping hard in his chest and he quickly –nervously- got to his feet. He edged to the door, confusion growing with every ragged breath. He peeked through the window but couldn't see much of anything. "Great," he muttered. "How the hell did I end up here?"

"How do you think you got here Arthur?"

Because England was sure he'd been alone when he'd woken, the sound of another voice startled him greatly. He whirled around, hands flying up to protect him from whatever threat was forthcoming and stumbled back into the padded door. It had been quite an overreaction, more like something Italy was likely to do, England knew even as his back hit the cushiony barrier, but he was feeling unusually jumpy.

'I really am out of it…' England thought. Not far from where he'd woken sat a man England had never seen before. From the white coat he wore and the clipboard in his hands, England could guess the stranger was a doctor. 'How did I not see him when I woke up? Didn't I look behind me?"

"I'm sorry," the white coated man said softly. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

"Who are you?" England questioned. He had to admit, he had no idea what to make of the situation.

"You don't recognize me?" the stranger asked. Again his tone was filled with an excessive amount of gentleness that had England frowning in annoyance.

"No. I don't. Now can you please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" England exclaimed.

The white coated man blinked at England judgingly then proceeded to scribble down some note on his clipboard. The country felt his eye twitch. He was more than a little frustrated that this guy was taking his jolly time to explain himself and was more than just a little frightened that he couldn't remember through the fog in his mind to explain how he'd ended up in this situation. After a long moment, the white coated man looked up, setting down his board over his crossed legs.

"Please remain calm, Mr. Kirkland."

"Look," England said assertively. "I would really like to know what's going on."

"Arthur," the white coated man said with a sigh. "You're in a mental institution."

"Well, I guessed that much," England muttered.

"My name is Dr. Morgan. I've been treating you for the last couple days."

"Days?" England exclaimed.

"You were brought in the night before last, to be more precise," the Doctor elaborated in that condescending tone of his. "It's still morning on your second day with us."

England strained his mind, trying to recall anything that would confirm this. He shook his head. "I don't remember any of that. I don't remember getting here at all!" The idea came to him then. "What have you been giving me?"

The doctor was not put off by England's raised voice. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"I am stiff and groggy and it is very hard to think straight," England snapped. "You can't just drug me and keep me in the dark, doctor. I have rights. What did you give me? Sedatives? Something to keep me from concentrating? Why? How did I get here?"

The doctor watched him carefully as he slowly go to his feet, clipboard at the ready.

"It was necessary to medicate you, considering your unstable condition when you came in. You really don't remember what you've done?"

England scoffed. "I haven't _done_ anything."

That's when the realization finally hit him and he gave a relieved little laugh. "Oh, I get it. Amer-Alfred Jones put you up to this, didn't he?"

The man was obviously only aware of their human alias names and England winced as he nearly let slip the name "America", but clearly this guy was only being paid or bullied into helping America pull this silly little prank. It was the only explanation really.

"Yeah, very funny. I'm crazy. Ha. Ha," England said, sarcasm dripping from his tone while he took a few paces in the doctor's direction while the doctor began to circle around towards the door. "You're probably not even a real doctor, right? And what's this then?"

England tapped on the padded wall then squeezed the material experimentally. "Is this some sort of quilt or something you stuck to the wall or did he manage to get an actual nut-house for his joke, or…"

England found himself fading off as he looked back to Morgan. The supposedly fake doctor's features were stern. Either America had found a very good actor or…

"You're not serious, right?" the country questioned, his new found humor now shriveling away to leave a despair more intense than before. "Tell me you are not serious."

The doctor stuck his pen into the breast pocket of his white coat with a heavy sigh. "I'm afraid this is very serious, Arthur."

England stood mutely as Morgan gave a rap on the glass and suddenly a section wall swung outward to a semi-lit hallway where an orderly stood in nondescript attire. Morgan gave another long sigh as he stepped out to the hall.

"We've pulled back on your meds to see how you handle it. The stiffness will fade. As for your mind, well," Morgan paused, almost as if for purely dramatic effect. "That's what we're here to study, isn't it?"

With hardly a creak, the padded door swung shut leaving a disbelieving England to stand in silent bewilderment.

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><p>So yeah... review! :D<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Yay! FF is back up! I wanted to post this hours ago. Better late than never. Oh and I just realised I forgot to do the whole disclaimer thingy. I don't own Hetalia.

EDIT: Gaahh! Sorry! I just realised I made a terrible mistake at some point in this chapter, so I went back and edited it. :S

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><p>next several hours were spent with England pacing fiercely around his cell.<p>

"How did I get here? Think!"

England knew talking to himself would certainly look bad for the whole 'am I crazy or not' situation with his supposed doctor (if he was watching somewhere), but he needed some kind of noise, even if it was just the sound of his own voice, to help him figure this all out. …And even if it was the hundredth time he'd asked that very question.

He remembered waking up at five in the morning in his holiday house in America. It was America's turn to be the host country of their meeting, which was at 11am that day.

"Couldn't go back to sleep so I made breakfast…"

Just a scone with jam and cream (extra had been put on to cover up where he'd burnt the scone slightly) and then a nice, hot cup of tea...

"Then-"

A jog. An early morning run to keep himself fit and fill in time before the meeting. He'd gone around back behind his holiday house, down the backstreet towards the old factories, up through the small desolate park- he could remember it all so vividly!- back up the main avenue and back to his… house…

"Wait…"

Everything up to that last bit he had recalled with absolute clarity, but after he got half way up Main Street, he found he wasn't quite so sure. The details blurred and became fuzzy. Had he gone straight home? He should have, but he had the impression that he didn't. Had he taken a longer trip? Had he encountered somebody?

He didn't recall anything particularly violent, so it was likely that he hadn't been attacked or kidnapped at that point…

England rubbed his temples unhappily then took yet another peek out the small window of his padded prison. Still nothing of note. He sighed angrily and went back to his attempted recollections.

"I do remember being at the meeting…"

Though he couldn't mentally trace his steps from his house to down to the meeting place, he did remember an intense discussion with France –though about what he couldn't say, probably another argument about nothing-, talking to America –with an overwhelming feeling of apology –and…

And then he could swear he remembered being grabbed. He remembered rough hands grabbing his arms and he remembered this strange feeling of satisfaction that went with it. Not satisfied about being snatched, surely. So about what then? Something he'd done before being grabbed.

Suddenly a voice spoke.

"Kirkland!" England jumped, startled by the before unnoticed presence of another person. In the doorway, now wide open, stood a tall burly man dressed in a nurse's scrubs. "You've got a visitor."

England blinked at the man blankly for a minute. "Who is it?"

"Hell if I know. Now are you comin' peaceful-like or are things gonna get hairy?"

England frowned at the orderly. This guy had definitely wanted to be a cowboy when he was young. Probably still did. England followed quickly, however. If there was a visitor, he could get the entire story concerning why he was in there.

The walk was a long one and through the entire ordeal, the orderly glared at him. England was surprised he hadn't been suited up with a straight jacket. Grateful, but surprised. Finally they reached a white metal door with a large glass window. The orderly ushered England through and the man found himself in a common room of sorts. There were circular tables scattered around the room and a row of cushioned chairs lined against the wall.

He didn't see any other inmates. Maybe this was just a waiting area? It didn't matter. God, his head felt so foggy.

"Where's my visitor?" England asked, eager for some real answers.

The orderly pointed to an empty table with two empty chars sitting across from each other. England rolled his eyes at the burly man.

"Look. Maybe this is how you people entertain yourselves during the long dull hours, mate, but don't screw with me. I'm not crazy. There's no one there," England growled.

The big orderly's nostrils flared a bit and he grabbed England roughly by his arm and dragged him to the table.

"Sit down, Kirkland. He hasn't come in yet," the man sneered. "And you're definitely crazy."

Feeling a little foolish, but in no way apologetic to the bully in a nurse's uniform, England sat himself down in one of the two empty chairs and began drumming impatiently on the table. He wondered who had come to visit him. The orderly had said the visitor was a 'he'. Not that it ruled many people out.

A door on the far side of the room opened and a man with long-ish blonde hair was ushered in. England frowned, foolishly hoping the man was there for some other reason (even though he knew that was ridiculous), but his hopes were dashed when, upon noting England, the man hurried over and sat down across from him and flashed him a toothy smile.

His distress must have been plain on his face for the damn frog leaned in a bit and gave that toothy smile again. Perhaps it was supposed to be comforting. It wasn't.

"What's wrong, mon ami? Not happy to see me?" the man asked in his silky creeper voice.

"If I never saw you again it would be too soon, cheese muncher" He snapped, perhaps a little too sharply. France jumped.

England winced. Strike two for Arthur Kirkland, he thought. Maybe he was being a little too twitchy.

The visitor pursed his lips and watched England watch him a moment, then motioned to the orderly.

"Could you perhaps give us a moment, si' vous plait?" he asked.

England tensed. Private conversations were always a good sign of fruitful intel, so he was quite disappointed when the orderly shook his shaggy head of hair.

"Sorry, mate. Can't. Not with a case like his."

France nodded and fiddled with his jackets sleeve.

"Understandable." He turned his attention back to England. "So, 'ow 'ave you been? 'ad any luck with your treatment?"

England lifted a bushy eyebrow.

"Well… if my treatment's results are supposed to cause amnesia," England replied slowly. "Then I suppose so. I can't remember how I got here and so far no one has told me a single thing."

"Amnesia, hmm?" France repeated. Was that...disbelief England heard in his voice?

England frowned and forced himself to be patient a little longer. France watched England as if expecting him to say something, but since England couldn't imagine what that might be, he was disappointed. The other country pursed his lips then gave little sigh.

"Ok then, I guess I'll go. Fairwell Angleterre"

England's jaw dropped. That was it? And he couldn't believe France could be so stupid as to almost give away his identity, he glanced at the burly man in the corner was glad the orderly didn't seem to know what Angleterre meant. As France stood, England followed suit angrily. The orderly appeared behind England without a sound, but England didn't back down.

"That's all? You come down here to ask me about luck with my treatment?" His voice had risen a few notches and out of the corner of his eye, he noted the orderly edge even closer. He didn't care. "What's going on? Why are you really here? And for that matter, what the bloody hell am I doing here?"

The visitor stepped back at England's outburst, nearly tripping over his chair in bewilderment.

"I-I am a friend, Arthur, non? I 'ave known you for a long time. So naturally I came to visit you! I simply wanted to know 'ow they were treating you-"

"That's no answer!"

The orderly's heavy hand landed on England's shoulder. "Calm down, Kirkland."

"All I want is information!" England cried. "Why can't anyone just give me a straight answer?"

France seemed quite perturbed. "I should go," he said as he headed for the door.

"No!" cried England, both commandingly and pleadingly. He made to follow, but the strong hand of the orderly kept him still.

"Yes," the orderly countered.

England briefly considered ripping it off and going for a more forceful approach but decided that wouldn't convince anyone of his sanity.

"Wait!" France exclaimed. He reached into his overcoat's inside pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope. The orderly wrinkled his nose but didn't stop the visitor from approaching them and tossing the letter on the table. England leaned in and picked it up almost warily.

"Who's it from?" he asked.

"From Monsier Callahan," France replied.

And with that, the french man turned and hurried for the door. England opened his mouth to question France one last time, but the orderly's deterring hand tightened its hold on his shoulder. England didn't argue. One last question wasn't likely to make France any less useless than he had been. As the old wooden door swung shut England turned his attention back to the envelope.

It hadn't been sealed, but the back flap had been folded inward to keep it closed. Ignoring the orderly behind him, England opened the envelope and slid out the note inside. The paper, torn from some larger piece, had been folded in half. In his frustration England nearly tore it again as he pulled it open. Surely the letter would be of some use.

He was disappointed. The semi-neat hand read:

_Arthur,_

_Hope you're feeling better. Sorry I couldn't come see you in person, but you know how things are at work. I'll probably visit soon. Maybe on the 12th or 14th. Don't worry about all this, we'll make it right. You just worry about getting better and doing what the nurses tell you. Give them the old ten two!_

_-H. Callahan_

England frowned. "Feel better? Ten two?" Wasn't the saying 'one two' anyway? "This can't be it," England muttered. He flipped the page over but found only a coffee stain.

"What? Not from your secret admirer?" the orderly jeered.

England just scowled, wondering how many times a perfect opportunity for information would wind up being worthless.

"Who's 'H. Callahan'?" he questioned aloud.

The hand on England's shoulder gave him a gentle push towards the door leading down to his cell.

"Don't know, don't care," the big man barked.

England looked over his shoulder to the door through which France had vanished and suddenly felt very claustrophobic. He wanted out. He needed air. If he could just-

As if sensing England's tension, the orderly pushed him a little faster towards the opposite door.

"Come on, Kirkland. I've got other things to be doing," the man growled.

The door slammed shut behind them, locking automatically behind them. The noise was surprisingly loud and England's hands went to his ears as they rang painfully. The orderly seemed unperturbed as he pushed England further along and the country had to wonder if the man had a hearing problem or if he was just extra sensitive from the meds. Shaking his head to clear it, England looked wearily to the man just behind him. All the fretting, annoyances, and confusion were taking their toll. He was tired and it was all giving him a headache.

"Please," he begged. "Just tell me something."

The bigger man sighed and pushed England forward again. "Fine. What?"

"Just tell me why I'm here."

The orderly snorted. "You really are crazy aren't ya'? Arthur Kirkland, you brutally murdered three people and are too crazy for plain old normal jail. That's why yer here."

-.-.-.-.-

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><p>-.-.-.-.-<p>

At the sound of the sharp rap on the door, America straightened in his chair, but didn't get up. He couldn't tell who it was standing out there, but he had a pretty good idea. He placed the half-eaten burger he had in his hand down and flipped shut the folder he'd been reading with he'd snatched from the FBI, leaving visible only a few words on the outside; Case Number 28471020 - Triple Homicide, and shoved it into the top drawer of his desk.

"Come in," he called. Pretty politly too, he thought. He regretted his good manners immediately when the two men entered.

The british Prime minister, America had been expecting after the incident. The second man, well… America would have been happy if he'd never seen DCI Smith from the Scotland yard's homicide department ever again. Smith wasn't the least bit deserving of what few manners America might possess. Catching America's glare, Smith gave an arrogant smirk that made America's blood boil. If only the Prime minister wasn't there he'd take Smith's ridiculous polka-dotted tie and-

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jones," The Prime minister greeted cordially. You could tell the guy was new to his job, America thought. He still retained an energy and honesty that drained away after years that high up on the food chain. "I don't know if you remember me, as we've only met the once. I'm Britain's new Prime minister, Benjamin Rowe. And this is DCI Derek Smith, though I believe you're already acquainted."

"I remember you, Prime minister," Anerica replied, pointedly ignoring Smith. "So, why are you here?"

"That would be me, Jones," came Smith's nasal drawl. He took a half step forward and looked about to continue, but America interrupted him.

America scowled, "Look dude, I was talking to Mr. Rowe!"

Aggravated, Smith too raised his voice. "And I believe-"

"Gentlemen!" Rowe exclaimed before Smith could finish. America gave a disgruntled but acknowledging "hmph" and Smith stepped back to let his superior have the floor. "Thank you. Now, Mr. Jones, Derek here has made known to both your President and I an interesting matter of jurisdiction."

"Oh?" America asked innocently. The truth of it was that he knew exactly what Rowe was referring to, but he wasn't about to make this easy on Smith. He looked at the shorter of the pair and stood up, straightening his trusty bomber jacket. "Ya' know, Smith, you coulda come to me about any problems you have. You didn't have to bother the Prime minister, I mean, isn't he usually kinda busy?"

Just as America had hoped he would, Rowe looked to Smith with annoyance and disappointment. For a happy moment the elder man down looked on Smith, obviously displeased that Smith was wasting his time. Then Smith, his usually calm though snooty demeanor broken by the slight flush of color in his cheeks from his superior's disapproving stare, responded.

"As Mr. Jones knows, I already came to him about this matter," Smith explained, his cool returned. The man motioned to himself. "I told him that the case was well within our jurisdiction and that it should be handed over to Scotland yard. He… colorfully refused to do so."

Rowe's stern eyes moved now to America. He didn't care. That moment had still been very worth it. America leaned forward on his desk.

"I dunno what you mean, Smith. All you do is whine and it all starts to sound the same."

"He's referring to the triple homicide, Alfred." Rowe elaborated, already annoyed at Smith and America's childish rivalry.

There it was. Smith was trying to steal the case from the FBI. To move in on America's territory and do the job he'd assigned to his best people. America put his attention back on Smith, sizing the man up.

"The murders happened in America, so the american authorities will handle it. We're totally the heros, after all." America replied.

"The suspect involved is an important english politician! Jurisdictional law states th-"

"La la laaa, not listening!"

Rowe started softly. "Gentlemen-"

"How childish! How on earth did you get to be so high up in your government? You must be a bunch of id-"

"Gentlemen!" Rowe's shout silenced them both. The Prime minister sighed and fidgeted momentarily with his mustache as if trying to decide where best to start. America took the opportunity to speak.

"You're both on American soil, so I'd be a bit more polite if I were you guys. You're not my boss, I don't have to listen to you Rowe. Besides, you're too late, he already confessed"

Rowe looked angry, "Well then tell your men they did a good job on apprehending our murderer, Jones, but I'm recommending that this case now be handed over to Scotland yard for the duration of this investigation."

"But," America growled, rounding the side of his desk. "He's in a british asylum, he's in your country, you should be satisfied with that. The investigation is over."

Rowe threw a cautious look in Smith's direction, before grabbing America roughly and hissing into ear "I'm afraid not, America. There is more going on than just the murder of a few countries, not that one of them even counted as such and I believe it can best be handled by Smith's team."

America pulled himself away as Smith narrowed his eyes suspiciously and opened his mouth, presumeably to ask what had just been said but a quick glare from Rowe stopped the words from coming out of his mouth.

_Just a _few _countries? _As if their lives meant nothing? As if they were worth less than a humans life? America felt himself turning red with anger. "No offence bu-"

"No more about it," Rowe interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your president agrees with me and he _is_ your boss and you _do have _to listen to him. As soon as possible, I want all pertinent information concerning this case and personnel files on this Kirkland fellow given to DCI Smith. I also fully expect you to explain just what you, the culprit and the victims are."

And with that the Prime minister left America to stare at his door in bewilderment. That was it? 'Good job, we'll take it from here? No doubts to my country's involvement as a murderer or questions about the why he had confessed? Didn't he care that this whole incident could start a war? They were both being dicks. Why on earth did the president agree with them?

America sighed, he hated having to be the mature one. He wished England was here.

"So." Smith was still there, a smug smile on his face. "Care to tell me what he meant by _what_ you are?"

He received no other answer than a fist to the face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

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><p>Moral of the story so far: OCs are dicks.<p>

P.s. Sorry for the ocs, I don't like them and don't normally use them but the story kinda called for 'em.

Guess it's time for a little headcannon to make this fic make sense.

In this fic, only high up government officials know about the countries, as well as army generals when countries are at war. Normal people aren't technically supposed to know about countries, although it is possible for them to find out. Humans know them by their human names.

Also, countries can die, but only a few things can kill a country. Whole armys and powerfull political leaders can, as well as anyone who would be able to bring down a government, so a normal person on the street wouldn't be able to kill a country. Countries can kill other countries and can kill themselves (that would be why germany was so... errr... "worried" when italy had that grenade, it could have killed either of them). Societies colapsing or dissapearing can also kill a country.

Prussia has the same traits as a country in these matters, as do principalities and micro-nations.

Countries have to listen to their boss, even if they don't like it. As the Prime minister in this fic had the American presidents agreement that the case should go to scotland yard, America ended up having to give the case up.

And on that point, countries can meddle in law enforcement if they want, I mean, the higher-ups in the FBI are hardly gonna refuse their own country are they?

Oh and biologically, countries are basically the same as humans, so medicine and stuff would work the same on them, there's a few exceptions but I probably won't need to get into those.

End of rambling headcannon

~Please review, it'll get the chapters out quicker 'cos it motivates me. ^J^ ~


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys, thanks for the reviews! On with the show...

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><p>England sat by himself at a small round table, back in the common room where he'd spoken with the visitor only a few hours earlier. It was occupied now. Dr. Morgan had announced that England would be allowed to join in with the other patients during one of the socialization sessions. The so called 'sessions' consisted of putting thirteen patients into the common room and letting them go. Orderlies stood around the room, a couple interacting in a friendly manner with the patients, others looking more like body guards standing at rest at the sides of the room.<p>

England's table was semi-near the back corner. He would've preferred one in a corner so that his back would be to the wall and he might watch everything and everyone as they went about the room, but they were all occupied. He attempted to convince one patient to move to a different table, but that had resulted in the patient breaking down into a screaming fit and he'd received several threatening glares from the orderlies.

He wasn't going to try that again.

So now he sat almost at the back of the room and almost by the corner. He felt exposed and he found that that made concentrating on his bigger problems even more difficult than it had been. Instead he found himself just watching the other patients. Most appeared heavily tranquilized or mentally handicapped in such a way that they seemed almost childlike and harmless. Some of them spoke to each other or to the orderlies that assisted them. Others just spoke to themselves.

England shook his head. He was not like that. He was not crazy. Nor was he a murderer. If he could just think far enough past the meds that had been forced on him he was sure he could remember how he'd ended up being thought of as such.

"Hi," greeted a cheerful high-pitched voice. England started, and turned to see his old friend floating beside him.

"Flying Mint Bunny!" he exclaimed, happily.

"Geez, you sure are jumpy today," the bunny observed.

"Well, you surprised me. Where are the others?"

"They should be here soon"

"Do you have any idea why I'm in here?"

"They said you killed some people, but I don't care. We all like you anyway" the bunny said

England bristled. "I didn't kill anybody!" he exclaimed.

England's raised voice made the magical creature cringe and his eyes flicked to the nearest orderly who was now watching them carefully.

"Shhh! Keep it down!" the bunny hissed. "Do you want them all over here listening in?"

England frowned. "Why should I care what they hear?"

"You should care, 'cause you don't want them to know you're crazy," the bunny replied.

"I'm not crazy, I'm here by mistake," England told him. He couldn't decide whether he was annoyed or happy that the bunny was here. It felt like he was just there to taunt him.

"You're not here by mistake," Another voice said. England looked up, it was Captain Hook, he was followed by Tinkerbell, a gnome and a unicorn. "Arr, you're here fer a reason. It's an institution for the criminally insane, you know."

England's happiness to see the group evaporated in rekindled anger at his situation. "I told you," he growled. "I didn't-"

"Nah, you're not no killer," the captain chuckled and England wondered at the use of the double negative considering he's usually pretty well spoken if not a bit rough.

Seeing England's frown, the unicorn scowled. "Listen," it said leaning forward. "Listen, listen! You can hear the truth if you listen."

England shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. "I don't have time for this sh-"

Suddenly Captain Hook leaned over the table and grabbed England by the wrist with a strength that surprised him. "Listen! I'm talking about the _truth_," he said pleadingly. Then the pirate lifted the fingers of his free hand and tapped them against his temple emphatically. To England's horror with every tap he saw a vision in his mind's eye.

One. He was a child, roaming the woods, lost, alone.

Two. He was battling France.

Three. He was in his pirate days, comanding a fleet of ships.

Four. He was in the rain, gun pointed at America, he couldn't pull the trigger.

Five. He looked down on the torn corpse of... Prussia? Blood was everywhere. Blood was on his hands. He looked at the dead former country and heard himself speak a single word followed by a feeling of satisfaction. "Good."

England jerked away as if he'd touched an open electrical socket. The country found himself gasping for breath as his heart pounded in his ears. With a shaking hand he wiped away the sheen of sweat that had broken out on his forehead and he tried desperately to blink away the images.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded in a whisper. Now it was his turn to look around suspiciously. One of the orderlies was edging in their direction. Apparently they were causing a scene, of course they would be, who'd expect to see a unicorn in here? England tried to give an assuring smile, but he was sure it'd looked more like a grimace. He leaned back across the table. "Tell me." He demanded in a growl.

"Did you listen?" the Pirate questioned eagerly.

"Yeah, did you listen?" repeated the other magical creatures.

"I was standing over Prussia, he was dead." England hissed. He did not, however, elaborate. The other visions or memories or whatever made sense, but that last one? How could he have stood over a mutilated corpse and felt satisfied like that?

Captain Hook leaned in as well. "Seeing is a start, but you've gotta listen!" the pirate tapped his head again and England flinched in anticipation of more visions, but nothing happened.

England banged a hand down on the flimsy table, "Quit talking in riddles, tell me whats going on!", he yelled.

The pirate looked taken aback, he quickly recovered and said, "Not everything is as it seems".

"What did I just tell you? Talk sense. I want an answer not a puzzle!" England sat forward, hands slapping down the table and a fury building from deep within him that he didn't know he had. Hook stared back at him with wide frightened eyes, but England ignored him.

"Tell me what's going on!" he demanded hotly. His angry movement had caught the attention of the orderlies and they began to converge on the group.

"Hey!" called the closest, a warning for England to calm himself, but England paid him no heed. It was Captain Hook who was the pinnacle of his attention now and all the unusual and frightening anger that came with it.

Hook, still wide eyed and obviously alarmed by England's sudden change in temperament, blinked, shuddered once then motioned at England with his non-hook hand.

"England, they- they've put an idea in your head," he stuttered.

England sneered. How dare this man continue to speak in riddles!

"Once you've got an idea in your head, it's impossible to remove it!" Captain Hook continued ardently.

England leaned in closer, full of unexpected and unusual rage.

The orderlies arrived. "I think that's enough for today," the nearest orderly declared.

England hardly heard him. He was far too busy staring down at the now-cringing Captain Hook. Too busy wondering how those beady eyes would look if he put them out... If that didn't teach the Pirate not to play word games with The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northen Ireland, he could always move on to breaking fingers. He'd just pull them back slowly one at a time until they-

"Kirkland!"

The orderly's shout brought England back. His terrible rage deflated with every ragged breath until finally, several long moments later, he was left a shaking and horrified husk. His knees went out and if the two orderlies weren't already holding him, he surely would've collapsed to the floor. He was himself again, disgusted by the cruel thoughts that had flooded easily into his mind and he looked around him from face to face wondering how much they'd all seen.

However much it was, it had been enough. The orderlies all watched him cautiously, as if he was an explosive and at any moment he might go off. Beyond them the other patients watched with a kind of tense curiosity. And then there were the magical creatures. Each looked very much like an abused child who expected another beating. England was speechless.

"Come on, Kirkland. Back to yer room, eh?"

England felt the tension in the room crackling as the two orderlies bracing England began to pull him towards the door. England's horror-filled eyes stayed locked on Captain Hooks as long as he was able but for some reason his magical friends were fading away.

"Come on Kirkland, you really must be crazy! Yelling at things that ain't there!" It was the brute from before. No one bothered to correct him, to tell him there were creatures there. That Arthur Kirkland wasn't crazy.

And with that England was dragged through a white metal door back towards his cell.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

* * *

><p>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-<p>

Night had fallen and in downtown London the hustle and bustle of the day's activities were calming down. Few cars were on the road now as most of the drivers had already hurried home and now sat hungrily at the dinner table. Several people wandered down the lonely streets towards the nearest pub as they had no one at home to eat with and preferred the lively company at the bar than the quiet solitude alone.

Still others with more questionable intentions roamed the streets hurriedly, their eyes going every which way as they searched for some hidden danger. One of these was a well dressed man. His long blonde hair blew in the wind that whipped through the narrow street down which he strode. The man grumbled and pulled his overcoat tighter around himself then cursed as he stepped in a puddle he hadn't noticed in time.

He hurried down to the far end of the street where a car was parked, facing him. When he was close enough, a figure stepped out of the passenger side and walked up to the meet him. Though the figure's details were hidden in shadow, it was obviously female.

The woman held up a halting hand and the man came to a stop.

"Well?" the woman asked.

"I went to see 'im, like you said to." The man said.

"And?"

The man shook his head. "'e was very strange. Very strange. Stranger than usual"

"You were told he would be acting strange."

"I did not know 'e would be _that _strange," the man replied, pushing his hair back behind his ear.

"Did you ask him what we told you to ask him?" the woman questioned.

"'Oui, I did, but I received no answer." The man reached into the folds of his coat. "'e said something about memory loss and asked me why 'e was there." He pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper and offered it to her. "I wrote it all down on 'zis peice of papier."

The woman took it and placed it in the pocket of her own coat without examining it.

"Oh, Angleterre" the man sighed.

"Did you give him the letter?"

"Oui," he replied.

"Did he read it?"

"I'm not sure, I gave it to 'im as I was leaving"

"Did he say anything else?"

"Not really. Ze orderlies, zey rushed me out," he lied. Letting the woman know that England had scared him away probably wouldn't look good. Even so, there was something about the woman's stance that told him she didn't believe him anyway.

She said nothing about it however. She gave a nod instead and turned back towards the car. "Goodnight."

"Wait! Will you not just tell me why 'e is there?" he called. "We both know 'e could not 'ave commited ze crime, why 'as Ameri-"

"That classified," the woman said as she pulled open the car door.

"Oui," the country grumbled as the car started up. The lights flashed on, blinding France before he could get his arms up to guard his face. With a growl of the engine, the car backed up and drove out into the night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

* * *

><p>Okay, I have a couple of questions for you guys, the readers.<p>

1. Would you prefer me to write out the accents as I've been doing or just write the words normally? Like "have" instead of "'ave" for France.

2. I've been thinking about bringing in some more characters from the series, but there's so many countries to choose from. Who do you want to see?

Also, sorry for killing off Prussia. That was unawesome of me. Please forgive me.

And maybe review? ^J^


	4. Chapter 4

Hello again guys! Here's more chapter-y goodness

* * *

><p>America's secutary knocked on his door. Barely waiting for acknowledgment, he entered.<p>

"Mr. Jones. Smith's people are on the line again. They're asking for those case files."

America looked up from the papers he'd been searching through. "What time is it?"

The secutary pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. "Just after three."

America nodded. "We need to hold them off a bit longer. Has Smith taken a trip to the crazy house yet?"

"I called them, but noone's seen Smith yet," The secutary replied, glancing around the room. It looked like a pigstye... well more of a pigstye than usual, the burger wrappers that were in the bin were starting to overflow, others were strewn across the floor along with discarded paperwork and other rubbish.

"Good."

The secutary's eyes snapped back to his boss.

"They're waiting for the case files before they interrogate him. Depending on how much of a spine that doctor has, they might not get in to see him anyway," America thought aloud. "I'll just have to keep stalling. We don't want them screwing all this up. Not when we're so close to ending it."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shadowed figures moved about the unidentified space around him. There was an annoying but constant beeping coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. England tried to concentrate on any one thing, but that was quite impossible.

"Hm," came a man's voice. There was a pause filled only by the beeping. "Increase the dosage."

Suddenly a rushing sound filled his ears, drowning out the beeping and anything further the man had to say and he jolted awake. Beside him, a figure jumped in surprise.

"Geez! You scared me!"

England groaned, taking in the world around him, all of it far too bright. He was back in the asylum's common room. The patients and orderlies were back and beside him, boots propped on the table, was Captain Hook.

"Have a nice nap, England?" Captain Hook asked cheerfully. "I guess they sedated you a bit this time, aye?"

England put his head in his hands. "What's goin' on?" he asked.

Hook shrugged. "Not much."

"No, I mean… when did I get back here?"

The captain pursed his lips thoughtfully. "About half an hour ago, I'd say. Just after three."

"Three?" _Great_ England thought. _Another night had past_. As he fought to remember, he did recall being brought back to his cell after that inexcusable bout of rage. He remembered falling asleep and… meds. Something about increasing the dosage.

"Oh, my bloody head…" he moaned into his hands.

"Arrr, cheer up, England," Hook replied, his mood still far too happy for England.

"Why?" England questioned, lifting his head. "What have I got to be cheery about?"

The pirate scratched his moustache with his hook thoughtfully, taking the question quite seriously. "Well, you've got your health, don't you?"

England considered his aching skull and his tired body. "No."

"Well, you've got your sanity then."

This made England laugh, low and full of self doubt. "Do I? I don't even know anymore. I mean, really," England said as he leaned back in his chair and motioned about the room. "Who see's fairies and Mint bunnies? Answer me that, 'Captain Hook'. Maybe America and the others were right."

Silence greeted him and after about thirty seconds, England turned to look for Hook. His companion was still there, eyes darting –but darting thoughtfully- around the room. England wondered then why Hook was even still speaking with him. England had completely lost it on the pirate and yet Hook had still chosen to return to his company. For some reason he'd come back to the guy who'd blown up on him. Who was he kidding? The pirate was probably a figment of his imagination as well. _Still... _England cleared his throat.

"Hey, Hook, I'm really sorry, chap," England started as he straightened in his chair. "For yesterday, I mean. I really… don't know what came over me. It was inexcusable, not very gentlemanly at all."

Hook shrugged. "It's all right. It wasn't you."

"No, it wasn't," England agreed, crossing his arms even as Hook dropped his feet to the linoleum floor. For a moment, the pair seemed near mirror images. "Any time before I got here, I would never have reacted like that, never gotten so angry or violent."

"But you've been having these weird thoughts lately," Hook put in knowingly.

"Yeah…" England agreed, looking inquisitively to the pirate beside him.

"This place brings out the better in some people and the worst in others," Hook told him sagely.

_'I didn't think that anger -those thoughts- were possible of me at all,' _England thought wretchedly.

Suddenly, Hook's eyes went wide and he sat up with excitement. "I know what you have!" he exclaimed. England yelped as he nearly fell back in his chair at the unexpected declaration. A few other patients looked their way, but quickly went back to their own dealings. "So you don't have your health or your mind. And maybe you killed a few people in cold blood. So what? There's still one thing you have got."

England gawked at the madman before him, unable to respond. Hook leaned in as he had the previous day, preparing to conspire with England against the world and whispered, "You've got a way out."

The Country squinted hard at Hook. "What?"

Hook beamed. "Didn't I mention?" he said quietly. "I'm breakin' you out of here! Those landlubbers can't hold you for long."

"You're crazy," England scoffed.

"So they tell me," Hook replied with a devious smile. "But I'm still getting you out. Are you in?"

"Do you have a plan?" England questioned, still disbelieving.

Hook tapped the side of his nose then held out the hand again. "That's need-to-know, England."

"Well, I need to know," England pushed.

"You just think you need to know. What you need is a little faith," Hook countered confidently.

The guy was a pretty smooth talker for one who was supposed to be a rough pirate. England almost wanted to agree. Instead he shook his head.

"What would that accomplish? Say somehow I did get out. Then what? The police would just hunt me down and I'd be put away forever. What I need to do is get in contact with America... or maybe Japan. I've got to convince everyone I'm innocent-"

The captain stood up from his chair slowly, his hook tapping against his pant leg as he looked knowingly and sadly down at England. "You're not going to get anything proven by staying here. They," Hook motioned vaguely towards the windows to indicate the outside world. "Already think they know all they need to know. They're not going to help you. You've got to help yourself now. If you ever want to wake up, England, if you ever wanna snap out of it, you're gonna need to get out."

"You think about it, England," came the voice of Hook. "You think about it hard. The thing about dreams is that you can never really control everything you bring into it. Dreams are an alternative to darkness and stale nothingness. They can let you solve problems you couldn't on the outside, but you can also let in your demons or create new ones." The Pirate looked down at him sternly. "All it takes is an idea to worm its way in. That's when you start to lose yourself. That's when you become what you weren't. Don't let the idea control you."

"What idea?"

"Do you want to get back to reality?" Hook's voice questioned. "Do you?"

"Of course!" England exclaimed.

"Good, good. Then I'll see to it," Hook replied then dashed off, leaving England to wonder what had just happened and what he'd gotten himself into.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_It's... Prussia."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"That makes three."_

_"Yeah."_

_"This is disgusting. Some arsehole killer thinks he can get away with murdering countries. It's odd that he knew about us. This is my land and it's totally not cool that someones doing this and he thinks he's better than American law!"_

_The other chuckled._

_"What, dude?"_

_More chuckling._

_"Am I missing something, England? Since when was murder funny?"_

_"It's just… what you said about the killer thinking he's better than your stupid laws."_

_"How is that funny?"_

_"It's funny because he doesn't think he's better than the law."_

_America's eyes widened as England pulled out his old service revolver and aimed the weapon at the other country's chest with a smirk._

_"I know I am!"_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At the sound of the deafening gunshot, England started into wakefulness. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was still in the common room. Patients and orderlies were looking around in confusion as England buried his head in his hands, ignoring them all and uncaring of how crazy it looked as he began to rock and mutter to himself.

"It wasn't real. It wasn't real."

But it had _felt_ real. It had _felt_ like a memory. He could remember the weight of the revolver in his hand, the blowback as he'd fired. It had felt as real as those –for lack of a better term- visions that he'd gotten when he'd been speaking to Hook the previous day.

"But it can't be real. I'm not a killer!"

A big meaty hand grabbed England by the shoulder and dragged him to his feet. "Stop day dreaming, Kirkland."

It was the way the orderly's voice wavered as he spoke that caught England's attention and for the first time, he really looked around the common room. His thick brows lifted as he realized that the confused looks of patients and orderlies were not directed at him. Whatever sound or jerking motion he'd made when he'd awoken had gone unnoticed. Something else held everyone's attention. And they were worried.

Besides the whimpering of two other patients as the orderlies ushered everyone towards the back door and the cell block, there was a dead silence. The decided lack of common background noise –squeaky wheels on a medicine cart, doctors chatting as they walked the halls, even the buzz of electricity in the bulbs above their heads- put England on edge.

"What's going on?" England asked.

"You didn't hear that? What are you? Deaf?" the orderly scoffed. England thought his name was Frank.

"What?" he pushed.

"An explosion. Sounded like it came from the west wing." the man replied quickly, apparently eager to confide in someone, even a patient. "Either way, we're getting' everyone back to their rooms, so get movin'!"

"Explosion?" England echoed as the orderly continued to urge him towards the back door and the east wing. England's instincts shouted that something didn't make sense. The back door led to a holding room, a checkpoint between the two wings and the common room. The door to each wing was thick and locked, but if there was an explosion, locks might not matter. The orderlies were taking them towards the source of the explosion.

"I don't think we should be going that way, Frank," England said, hoping he remembered the man's name correctly. The orderly snorted and pulled him forward like a frustrated parent dragging his misbehaving child. "I'm serious. We should be keeping everyone here until we are told what is going on out there."

Frank scoffed. "What's this 'we', Kirkland? _You_ are a patient-"

"_I_ have been trained by the SAS. Trust me, this is not a good plan. For all you know, the checkpoint is compromised. You know better than me these patients will not let a chance to escape pass them by. There could be a gas leak or-" England stopped when he realized another orderly had beaten them to the door and was already sliding out his key and pulling open the door.

"No!" England shouted, but too late.

Through the open door came a flood of smoke, black and thick. Proving his ineptitude, the orderly at the door gave a frustrated cough and opened the door further, looking for the origin. Already having overtaken the checkpoint room, more smoke streamed into the common room, seeking a new domain.

England coughed and pulled Frank towards the floor and the cleaner air as everyone in the room began to panic.

"Bloody hell! Close the door and everybody get down on the floor!" England shouted.

Only a few, including the orderly at the door paid him any heed. Everyone else began running about like chickens with their heads cut off, patients panicking and trying to hide or escape and orderlies attempting to maintain control in the smoky chaos. Somebody must have gone floundering to a wall and hit a switch for the lights went out, leaving only a few small streams of light through the closed window shades from the setting sun. England was surprised it was evening already. How could he have slept so long? What had they been sedating him with?

England sighed then noted his orderly was still there, looking quite overwhelmed.

_'Well now we know he's more of a taking orders guy than a leader.'_ Truthfully this was more useful, as long as he started taking England's orders.

"How many people in the west wing?" he questioned.

"Wha-? Oh, uh, not many. It's all offices and therapy rooms down there. And most of the doctors are gone for the day, you know that."

England did not.

"So there's nothing down there that might have… exploded on its own? A lab? Kitchen? Garage maybe?"

"No," the orderly answered with a helpless shake of his head. "Yer not even allowed ta' light a fag in 'ere. This place is supposed to be safe as houses."

"Then something deliberate is goin' on," he concluded. "Look, we've got to get everyone out of here. They're in danger. We've got to get them out and us to a phone. Call the police and the fire department."

The orderly looked about to agree when a shadow past over his face. "No way. It's not secure out there! Every person in here is a danger to the community. Murderers, molesters, terrorists… Nuh uh. I'm not lettin' you lot run free," the orderly replied, but he was choking on the thickening black smoke that was still seeping through the cracks in the back door.

"They don't deserve to suffocate," England countered. "Besides, this is a place for the criminally insane. Out there you're gonna have a lobby that is locked and past that will be a gated perimeter, right? Your job is to protect these people and right now, that-" England stabbed a finger towards the back door. "...whatever's goin' on out there is what they need protecting from."

The orderly hesitated, stunned by England's emphatic speech. Apparently he wasn't used to speaking to patients who could logically debate an issue. His eyes were big as he ran through the consequences of doing what a convicted killer told him. In the end, the orderly moved to the front door.

"Everyone please come this way. We will exit to the lobby now," the orderly commanded, shouting over the chatter and the smoke alarm that had only just begun to sound.

Squinting thought the smoke and breathing through his shirt, England helped to usher several people towards the opening door. He was about to go himself when a pair of hands clapped him on the shoulders and spun him around. It took him a moment in the dark, but his eyes widened when he recognized Captain Hook, who he could have sworn had not been in the room when this whole thing started.

"Hook? Where did you come from?"

"Not important. Not at all," Hook buzzed. "What is important is that we hurry!"

With a strong yank, England was pulled several steps towards the back door before he could twist free.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

Hook looked at him, puzzled by the question. "Escaping. And you said you wanted in!"

"What?" England looked in horror towards the smoking door. "No, not like this-"

"England, this is it! Our chance. Another's unlikely to arise any time soon after this," Hook urged. He stepped in, putting his face uncomfortably close as if he was about to reveal the secret of the universe and pointed to the back door. "Out there is the truth. Facts and evidence and… facts! You can either go with me out the east wing or stay here, let them pump you full of ideas and lies 'til you become the person they all think you are."

England hesitated. This was bad. Convicted or not, he would get into big trouble for breaking out. But on the other hand no answers seemed forthcoming in here.

"Fine," England conceded.

"Good!" Hook almost giggled with excitement as he charged for the back door. England followed close behind lest he lose sight of the man.

"Is that all of them?"

England barely heard the question over the blaring fire alarm and he glanced back to the front of the common room where he could barely make out two figures partly silhouetted in the open doorway.

"I think so," said a second voice. "I'll do one more sweep. Can't see a damn thing in this smoke. Where's the lights?"

Behind England, Hook had started making his way down a hallway, "Ya coming?"

England couldn't see him through the smoke, so he followed the pirate's voice.

"Hold your breath," Hook exclaimed through the darkness. The air was thick with a blanket of smoke.

What in gods name had Hook done to get so much smoke? There had to be a fire blazing somewhere. Rubber burned pretty thick, but it didn't smell quite like this.

"Come on, England! We're not out yet!"

Still filled with doubt, England chased after Hook who tore down the hallway as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Luckily no one else seemed to be in the hall. The east wing, England knew, was three stories of cell blocks. They seemed vacant now and England had to wonder where all the residents were. Only a very few had been in the common room. The rest were probably in the cafeteria. Or out in the yard for their last allowance of sunlight for the day.

"Is that why you planned for this to happen now?" England questioned as Hook led them to a staircase behind a door. "So there'd be minimal staff and patient witnesses?"

As the door creaked open, Hook paused to look quizzically back at England. "You think _I_ did this?"

England frowned, taken aback. "You didn't?"

"Pfft! No," Hook laughed as he turned and dashed for the stairs. "I'm just rollin' with the punches!"

They reached the second floor and kept going.

"But you said you had a plan!"

"My plan was to bribe an orderly! Not to blow a hole in the wall and have a team of gunman come in!"

"You saw people with guns?" England exclaimed.

"There were three guys in black. They were lookin' for someone." Hook said "I don't know what you're involved in, England, but it's a little too high profile for me!"

"Me?" England questioned. "They were looking for me?"

"Didn't I mention that?"

"No!"

England's mind spun even as he and Hook whirled around to ascend the final staircase. He hardly noticed as they past the door labeled '3' in favor of one that wasn't labeled at all and entered a narrow staff hallway.

Men with guns and explosives had blown their way into a mental institution to find _him_? Why?

"Look behind those crates, there should be some clothes there" Hook said, interrupting the country's thoughts.

Sure enough there was a bag with a pair of folded up pants and a white collared shirt.

"Get 'em on, you don't want anyone spotting you after you escape."

England wanted to argue that they didn't have time, that there were men with guns and hospital staff all around who could walk in on them at any time, but Hook was right. Quickly he changed into the black pants –a little too large for him- and tossed on the white collared shirt over his loose hospital shirt. He snagged the pair of shoes from the bag and shoved them on with abandon. With a triumphant smile, Hook took off again so fast, England fell behind. He heard the sound of a door opening from around the corner, when he turn he saw the one that was used. He burst through the door and was met by blinding light from a floodlight. He was on the roof, three stories high, and it was night. He spotted Captain Hook.

Hook ushered England out of the light and towards the edge of the roof.

"Hook," England called over the blare of the fire alarm sirens. If it had been another time, England might have scoffed at the poor positioning of the louder fire alarm on the roof of the building. Now he had a more pressing question. "Why are we over here? The fire escape's on the other side!"

"We're not using the fire escape," Hook replied.

"Why the hell not?" England questioned nervously as he peered over the edge. A gust of wind picked up out of nowhere as if trying to urge the two men over the side and to their deaths. England shuffled back a bit and began buttoning his shirt. Hook scoffed at him as if it were obvious.

"Well 1) they're more likely to be watchin' that and 2) it's on the wrong side of the building. Look." Hook crouched at the edge and pointed downwards and towards their right. "Over there is where those intruders blew up our little asylum. I'm willing to bet over there is also how they go on the premises."

"A hole in the fence," England concluded.

"Exactly. They gave us our way out."

England had to admit, he was impressed. Hook had a much more logical mind than he gave him credit for. And it was so simple a deduction he was almost ashamed that he himself had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to think of it.

"Ok, then. How are we getting off the roof?"

Hook looked up at him with a grin then pointed to a three inch wide metal pipe that had been bolted into the brick wall. England swallowed hard. The pipe was probably just a casing for electrical wiring. The bolts weren't made to support the weight of a grown man. Unfortunately England didn't have any better ideas. The brick wall had no other handholds.

England took a deep breath. "All right, but one at a time. It won't hold the pair of us."

Hook grinned wider, like a child who'd just been told he could play in the big kid playground and swung his legs over the side. "Me first!"

With a little too much gusto Hook grabbed the pipe and slid off the side. Panicked at Hook's lack of concern for his own well being and lack of consideration for the fragility of the bolts that had to survive both Hook's and England's descent, England dropped to his belly and grabbed the pipe to support it.

"Be careful!" England scolded. But the pipe didn't move an inch, as if there was nothing on it. Maybe the pipe was stronger than it looked

Hook's climb took only a minute and before England really wanted it to be, it was his turn.

"Why do I let myself get talked into these things?" he questioned as the pipe shifted. Beneath him, Hook huffed impatiently.

"Come on. Come on!"

England ignored him. He was still two stories up and the last thing he wanted was to let his mind wander or for his hurrying to-

Beneath him, a pair of bolts groaned unhappily and pulled part way out of the cement between the bricks. England gasped and clung harder to the pipe, frozen.

"Careful!" Hook called.

"Not helping, Captain!" England shouted back. For a moment he remained quite still, getting his wits about him, and then he started to slide down again. He'd gotten only another meter when two of the bolts snapped. With a low reverberating groan, the pipe pulled away from the wall, first only by half a dozen centimeters, then, as more bolts gave way, it broke away further and further. England shouted in surprise as the pipe bent, the cables inside snapped, and the ground came up to meet him far too fast.

For the last story The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northen Ireland was in free fall. His only consolation was that the cables had lowered him that extra half story before they broke and that he would be landing on beaten down soil instead of cement. Still, he hit the ground hard and even though he bent his knees and dropped into a shoulder roll to absorb the impact, it still hurt like hell.

His shout of pain echoed loudly and as he lay on his back, clasping his ankle, he realized that the alarm had been silenced and all floodlights in the area had gone off. Hook appeared above him.

"I guess we know what kinda cables that pipe was hiding, eh?" Hook held out a helping hand. "We gotta go. We've got more time, but less time too. And since we didn't have any time to begin with, I guess it all evens out to nothing, huh?"

England clasped the offered hand and let Hook pull him to his feet. "I'm fine, thanks," England grumbled, keeping his weight off his twisted ankle. He was pretty sure he could still walk, but it hurt like hell.

"Yes, good, now we can go!" Hook hissed. With a tug that set England stumbling, Hook hurried ahead leaving England to limp after him as quickly as he was able.

They reached the fence and found the hole quickly. It had been a professional job. Wire cutters had sliced a pull back gap in the two layers of chain link fence. After he'd climbed through, he dared a look over his shoulder. Even in the darkness of the night, England could still see the seven foot hole in the eerily dark east wing. The whole section had lost power it seemed. Probably the whole building, though he couldn't tell from there. He just hoped the telephone lines were still intact and that Frank had called for help by now.

He only spared another moment before turning to wear he last saw his companion while saying "Well, I gu- Hook?"

The pirate had vanished! The country glanced around, looking for some sign of the captain but saw none. England sighed and knowing he had no other choice unless he wanted to be discovered, limped off into the night.

* * *

><p>Erm, basically I had to have Captain Hook for all that because (frankly) the flying mint bunny wouldn't have worked... Hook was the only one I felt could fit the role of cryptic information giver and escape artist. I still don't like how I overused him.<p>

Anyways, noone answered my questions *sob*, although, I did update super-quick so noone really had a chance. So here are the questions again. With a bounus added question:

1. Would you prefer me to write out the accents as I've been doing or just write the words normally? Like "have" instead of "'ave" for France.

2. I've been thinking about bringing in some more characters from the series, but there's so many countries to choose from. Who do you want to see?

And

3. What's your take on the story so far?

Reviews quell the Flying Mint Bunny's murderous rage. (I'm sure he's not as innocent as he seems :) ).


	5. Chapter 5

America stood on the charred grass outside King's Park Psychiatric for the Criminally Insane, looking into the west wing through a hole in the wall. He was wearing a scowl that set deep lines on the man's youthful face. A dozen police officers were mulling about the area setting up lines and looking for evidence. Among them were several of America's men, who were still stationed in the area dispite Smith's repeated orders to leave the country. Hopefully they're helping to coordinate this mess, America thought angrily.

One of his men appeared at his side.

"Sir?"

Turning from the gaping hole, America pulled a large soda from seemingly nowhere and started to loudly slurp it up while scanning the crime scene. "What have you got?"

"Not much. There's woods for at least a kilometer in all directions, but we did find footprints and tracks in the mud not far from here. Car tracks. We're thinking they're from the car or whatever the terrorists used to get away in."

"And get here in the first place," America huffed. He paused to take another sip. "What else?"

The other man looked down to a notepad he carried, trying to decipher the scribbled notes.

"Well there's the fence that had been cut with cutters-"

"Which tells us nothing. *slurp* And?"

"And, uh, the hole in the wall," the man ended with a half-hearted motion. "We're getting the bomb squad down here to see if they can make anything else of it. But that's about it."

"About *slurp* it or really it?" America questioned hotly, while finishing his drink.

"Really it, sir. For now," he added quickly, in an attempt to appease his fuming superior.

America threw the empty drink container to the ground and stomped on it. "Dude! They left a two meter calling card in the wall and we still have nothing! What do they have to do? Walk up to you and hand a signed letter of confession?" America shouted.

The man didn't meet his eyes, ashamed. America signed after a moment then continued, quieter.

"How're the search teams?"

"They're split up, Sir. Got one following the footprints, but it gets hard fast. The dogs should be up soon. Then we'll know where the runaways went."

"What's the final count on the escape artists?" America asked.

Behind them, another of America's men appeared, stepping through the hole in the wall with Dr. Morgan right behind.

"Four, Sir," The newly arrived man answered.

"No, no, it's just three," Morgan corrected snootily. "They found Johnson hiding in an office cabinet."

"And who were the others?" America questioned.

"Oh, it's you." Morgan lifted his nose unhappily in America's direction. "I thought you were in politics, what business do you have here at a crime scene?"

"I do a bit of everything, it's how us heroes roll."

"Right, well..."

"So, who were the others?" America asked, impatiently.

"There's Johnny Paris, who I'm sure will turn up. He's done this before on a smaller scale. He just hides then pops back. Has nowhere else to go, you know. And no ambition. He's reformed quite a bit, but he's still quite ma-"

"And the other two?"

"And a man by the name of Zach Charles and your friend Ar-"

"Arthur Kirkland," America finished. He turned a glare towards the hole in the brick wall and kicked the discarded, squashed soda cup at his feet. "God Dammit!"

"Quite," Morgan agreed calmly as he checked his watch.

"Was anyone hurt?" America asked after a moment.

"We've a few patients and staff who inhaled too much smoke and a few patients hurt attempting to escape through a barred window in the lobby. Nothing serious."

"Did anyone see the guys who did it?" America asked.

"Oh, yes. There was a group trapped in the lobby. Apparently the intruders came right up to them and asked them a few questions."

America lifted an eyebrow incredulously but the doctor just nodded confirmation. The man seemed quite unperturbed by the whole situation beyond the disruption it was causing in his schedule.

"You didn't see 'em yourself, Morgan?" America questioned.

"Oh no," Morgan replied, sounding aghast at the idea. "I had already headed home for the evening."

America nodded critically. He hated uptight, snobby, college pricks. They always thought they knew everything and hated putting in more than the minimal amount of effort required.

"I'm going to need a list of everyone who was on duty yesterday and this morning," America ordered.

Morgan glared at him, displeased at being given commands, but nodded. "I'll get right on it."

"I hope you find them soon, Mr. Jones. For their own sake and the sake of anyone around them," said the doctor. "They were all on medication for their conditions. It is essential we find them, especially Arthur Kirkland, before it wears off."

"What'd you have him on?" America asked, scowling at the idea of pumping England full of drugs and calling it medicine.

Morgan saw this and adjusted his glasses. "Mr. Kirkland, as you know, had no notable prior history of severe violence, but something in him snapped, Mr. Jones. This can happen when a person is under a great deal of stress and people who are already damaged –Possibly by past experiences and trauma- or people who are in a highly stressfull occupation, are more susceptible. Even with the sedatives and therapy sessions, he's had bouts of violence during his stay. Without them…." Morgan let the sentence hang ominously.

America started stonily back at the doctor. He knew what the doctor was saying; If England wasn't found and treated, he could kill again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You know," England groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I'm getting tired of just suddenly waking up and not knowing where I am or how I got there."

England sat on an old beaten up mattress, his back propped against a cool wall of stone. He was in a small room dimly lit by a single bulb. It reminded him of a walk-in closet. And maybe it had been once upon a time, but it seemed so old and unkept now, he doubted anyone had used it in years.

"We crashed here last night, remember? After our Great Escape? Lovely old condemned building?" England jumped slightly, then turned to see Captain Hook leaning in the doorway.

"No, not really," England grumbled. He felt groggy, stiff, and irritable. Hook held out his hand and helped England to his feet.

"Well, you're not thinkin' hard enough then," Hook told him as England tested his ankle. The damage it had taken in the fall the night before seemed to have mostly healed. England sighed.

"Or maybe I don't remember, because this is all in my head," he countered. Hook handed him his stolen collared shirt and tipped his head curiously.

"How do ya' figure?"

England slid his arms into the sleeve and adjusted the shirt with a shrug. "Because, Hook, besides the fact that me being accused of murder is postively ludicrus in the first place and could only belong in a nightmare, when you're in a dream, you often jump from place to place and time to time. It might seem natural at first, but when you start to think about it, you can't remember actually getting there," he told the pirate matter-of-factly. "That's when you realize you're dreaming."

Hook chuckled and motioned for england to follow him out. "No, you gettin' chucked in the nut-house really did happen, though that stuff about jumping from one place to the next... That's true enough. In your case, however, I'm bettin' it's the stuff they drugged you up with."

"Drugs?" England questioned.

"Or maybe your mind was just elsewhere," Hook continued, waving his hook vaguely as they stepped out of the closet and into a larger room that reminded England of an abandoned factory. The area was only about two meters high, but something close to 15 meters wide. He was less interested in scenery, however, and more interested in what Hook had said. He reached out and grabbed the man by the shoulder.

"What drugs?" he demanded.

Hook rolled his eyes. "They call it medication," he said. "You've gotta wonder though. And when you wonder, your mind wanders. Wandering wondering minds… What did you see when your mind wandered, England?"

England glared at Hook in growing annoyance. "Nothing."

"Oh, I highly doubt that."

"What is it with you?" England growled. "Ever since you showed up at the asylum you've acted as if you know more than you say." England stepped up close to Hook as what had started as mere frustration began to boil into something more dangerous. "I want answers."

"I'm sure everybody does at this point," Hook replied vaguely.

"Everybody who?" England questioned hotly with a gesture to the empty space around them. Without warning, England's other hand shot out and pressed the taller man back against the wall. Hook grabbed at England's hand, eyes wide in fear even as England's blazed. "Tell me, who you really are in all of this? You know more than you've been telling me."

Hook choked and England found his lip curling back as if in pleasure at the man's distress. And why shouldn't he be pleased, really? Captain Hook had been nothing but a nuisance since day one, with his inappropriate jokes about Tinkabell and his habit of spitting, all he did was remind England of his pirating glory days and how come this pathetic man could be a pirate but The United Kingdom of Great Britian and Northen Ireland had to be content with just being a boring old man, he was still bloody young! And the garbage that had been pouring out of Hook's mouth of late. And... and...

"England, please!" Hook sputtered.

"The truth, Hook. No more of your inane riddles," England hissed.

"Not riddles-" Hook choked. "I just know what I know."

At the unsatisfying answer, anger flooded though England that put anything he'd felt previously to shame. It was a pure, white hot rage that felt so incredibly alien, it made him halt his murderous action of grabbing Hook by the head and snapping his neck with a twist. Instead, he blinked confusedly at Hook.

"Yeah, maybe you are in a dream, but not the way you think. I think we can help each other, but first you gotta decide if you want to wake up," Hook said earnestly. "Please, England. Is this who you are?"

England's eye twitched and again the urge to dispose of this nuisance of a man threatened to overwhelm him. Hook trembled in his grip, but kept his eyes locked on England. England wasn't seeing him, however. England's gaze had turned inward. He remembered being crouched over the body of a murdered country. He remembered being at another murder scene with America. He recalled with something worse than clarity that he was responsible. He remembered feeling pleased and some spark of sanity left inside him recoiled at the thought and with that small moral reaction the murderous anger dwindled. Dwindled, but did not disappear, England noted with disgust.

England released Hook who also seemed a bit more relaxed.

"I'm sorry. I … This isn't me," England said, confusion clear. "I don't understand," he said as he turned away. "How can I be-"

England stopped short as he came right in line with a gun. The man holding it wore a serious expression and he wasn't alone. Two other men had somehow also entered the room and gone unheard and unnoticed until now. England recognised them as Japan and... North Italy? And the man holding the gun was South Italy, why on earth are they here?

"Er... Romano?" Italy said tentatively, "I don't think you're supposed t-"

"Quiet, stupido," said Romano, "I still don't know whether or not I trust him yet."

Italy frowned. "Yeah, but it's dangerous to point guns at people and Germany sai-."

"Germany, Germany that's all you ever talk about," snapped Romano turning his attention from England to address his brother, whilst gesturing angrily "I'm only here because you asked me to come and don't think I w-"

"You do know the safety is still on don't you? While I'm not sure I like you pointing that thing at me, if you're going to threaten me, you can at least do it properly." England cut in.

"Wh- argh, dammit!" Romano cursed, he turned around and began fiddling with his gun.

"It's the little lever on the side there..." England said, looking over his shoulder.

There was an awkward silence in the room for a few seconds.

"...yeah alright, I already knew that, obviously!" Romano insisted, as he took the gun off safety, while England rolled his eyes and mouthed a "sure".

"So, do you wanna tell me what you were doing in here?" Romano asked firmly. The two held steady gazes for a few moments, then England broke it with an accepting nod.

"Well, obviously I was having a... rather intense discussion with Captain Hook here" he said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Who?" Romano asked, lowering his gun in confusion. North Italy and Japan exchanged nervous glances.

"Hook, the pirate right behi- hey where'd he go?" England exclaimed, whist turning around. "He must have run off, but you saw him when you came into the room right?"

The others shuffled their feet awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid we didn't see anyone else" Japan said quietly, breaking the temporary silence.

"That's it, I knew he was nuts, I'm outta here! Come on fratello!" Romano said loudly.

"But, I wanna stay and help" North Italy whinned.

"Hai, I agree with Italy, England is my friend. We should stay and at least find out why we're here." Japan said.

Romano sighed, "Fine."

The three looked expectantly at England.

"...well?" Romano growled.

"Huh?" England said confusedly

"Why are we here?"

"...Er, I don't know. Why _are _you here?" England said slowly, mistaking the question.

Romano huffed, "Hey, don't play mind games with me, I know some people in low places buddy."

Another flare of anger coursed through England, but he managed to keep it in check. Romano saw England's eyes shoot to him and the quick glare that flashed across the man's face and he cleared his throat.

"Um... I mean... Ah, don't kill me!" He pulled his brother infront of him like a sheild, "I have family in Manchester!"

"Don't be ridiculous," England sighed, "I just want some answers, I've been in the dark for a... while. Actually, how long _have_ I been gone?"

"About two weeks! I remember because Festival Nazionale dei Primi Piatti was on and I had to miss some of it because of all the questioning from the police. I nearly missed the pasta art competition!" Italy piped up.

"Y-you really didn't know how long you were gone?" Japan asked

"Er. No, I _was_ in an asylum and I'm a little... fuzzy on the details, but it certainly doesn't feel like I've been gone _that_ long, I thought for sure it had been four, maybe five days at the very most" England scrunched up his face in concentration, trying to sort through the last two weeks, but he had very little to work with. He didn't like the feeling.

As yet another awkward silence threatened to consume the group, England decided to think further back, to the events that lead to him being brought to the mental health facility in the first place. "There were some murders" he started, "not just ordinary ones though, the victims, they were..." he trailed off.

"Countries," Romano filled in, "they were countries like us." His voice seemed to break, and in quickly became obvious that he was having a difficult time holding his composier. His brother edged closer to him and attemped to wrap his arm around Romano's shoulders, but he was shrugged away. "I'm fine! I don't need any of your hug theropy!"

"The victims," England continued, "one of them was Prussia, wasn't it?"

The others nodded grimly.

"Germany was so upset, it was kinda scary" Italy said in a small voice, while still attempting to comfort his resisting brother.

"Can you remember any others?" Japan asked, trying to help things along.

"Um," England bit his lip, he could think of one other, but he almost didn't want to hear the answer and he was afraid to ask. All he could think about was that... Dream? Memory? Hallucination? That he had back at the facillity. Where he had a revolver, he had pulled the trigger after turning the gun on... On... On...

"America." England asked, staring at the floor. "Was he one of the victims?"

The silence that followed his question was stifling. "Well, was he?" England asked hotly, lifting his head up in order to see the answer on their faces.

All he saw was confusion.

"N-nooo" Romano said, drawing the word out, as though trying to placate England and mock him at the same time. He looked extremely irritated but wary of England.

"He wasn't?" hopeful relief filled England's voice.

"No, why would you think that?" Italy asked.

"He was probably next on that crazy bastard's list" Romano shot out, "come on Fratello, I'm not gonna trust a single word that guy's saying, this was probably just a trap to lure us here or something." He grabbed Italy by the arm and made for the exit quickly.

"I told you! I don't know why you're here!" England said, raising his voice.

"Then why did you ask us to come?" Romano said, loudly, turning to face him while letting go of his brother.

"I didn't ask you to come!" England was yelling now.

"Yes, you did, don't deny it you bastard!" So was Romano.

"Um, excuse me" Though, Japan was as quiet as ever as he attempted to interject.

"Did not! I didn't even know where this place was until Hook lead me here... I think."

"Oh, another one of you're crazy little fairy friends?"

"Excuse me," Japan was still struggling to get their attention, but he was to polite to interrupt them or raise his voice.

"He's a pirate dammit! You know damn well th-"

"Blah, blah, crazy shit, blah, pirate, blah" Romano said, in a high-pitched, poor british accent, whilst entertaining himself by using a hand puppet that was clearly meant to resemble England that appeared to have materialised out of nowhere.

"Where the hell did that _**thing**_ come fr- you know what, it doesn't matter. I used to be a bloody pirate! So show at least a little bit of respect!"

"Respect? I bet you were a half-arsed, girly pirate!" Romano shouted.

"Excus-"

"Half arsed, girly pirate?" England yelled, cutting off Japan, who was beginning to feel a little like... that guy, America's brother, whats-his-name. "That's not what your man-crush Spain said when I kicked his arse all over the ocean."

"You have no right to say his name, you bastard!" Romano growled. "You're nothing but a murderer!"

"I am **NOT A MURDERER! **And I'll say his name as many times as I damn well please!" England roared.

Japan was still trying to stop the fight. "Can you two jus-"

"Just try it!" Romano yelled.

"Spain, Spain, Spain, Spain, Spain, Spa- ow!"

"You stupid, murdering bastard! I don't know why I even decided to give you a chance, I shouldn't have come here!" Romano shouted, cocking back his fist to lay another punch on England's face. Italy rushed to attempt to constrain his brother.

"Everybody shut up!" Japan yelled.

Wait... Japan... Yelled?

"Err..." England floundered.

"Wow, Japan's actually mad." Italy whispered, while his brother just stared in silent shock.

"I-I mean... Well. Um, I apollogise for my rudeness and for losing my temper like that, but perhaps we could try a more effective way of working through this." Japan stuttered, looking embarresed.

"I guess you're right." England sighed.

Romano let out a "hmph", crossing his arms and looking reproachfully at Japan, he was still shaking with anger.

"Now, England. I believe you were working through the events of the past few weeks? You'd just determined that America was not one of the victims." Japan said, trying to avoid eye contact with Romano. This is why he usually refrained from speaking when sensing the mood.

England screwed up his face in concentration. "Yeah, so I was told there were three victims. Is that right?"

Italy and Japan nodded silently, while Romano just huffed impatiently.

"So there was Prussia... then who?" England asked.

"As if you don't know bastard!"

"No, Romano. I don't know so why don't you enlighten me, huh?" England snapped.

"Well Prussia and... and... a-and." Romano started sobbing, as did his brother.

Japan looked at them both sympathetically, "Romano, if you feel you cannot say it, you don't have to. I can tel-"

"N-No! I'll say it. I have to be the one to say it. O-One of the victims was... w-was S-S-Sp-Spaaaaiiinnn." He let out the name in a wail.

The Italian brothers both started bawling, Japan watched on in empathy and England just let out a small "Oh".


	6. Chapter 6

Huuuuge Thanks to all those who reviewed. It means alot to me and really does help motivate me to get more chapters up. ^J^

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

><p>America entered without a word what was, on a normal day in the nuthouse, the common room. Today, however, was not a normal day. A lone table sat in the center of the room, the others shoved off to the sides in a disorderly fashion. It was at that center table where all the action was. America scowled upon seeing his least favorite DCI seated there.<p>

DCI Smith sat with his back to America speaking harshly to a man across from him.

"We never saw their faces," the man Smith was interrogating was saying. "They wore those black ski-mask things. Smart of them if you ask me. We got cameras round this place. Definitely woulda got their faces if they hadn't worn 'em. And, you know, if someone hadn't pulled out the reserve power cables on the roof by the east wing."

"Reserve power? Why were you on the reserve?" Smith asked sternly.

"Dunno. My guess is they blew out the main power on the way in."

"And you were in the lobby when the intruders found you?" Smith asked. America assumed the other man nodded. "Why?"

America came to a stop behind Smith and was noticed by the 'interrogated' for the first time. He wasn't a patient as America had assumed. His attire gave him away as an orderly. Upon seeing America, his before relaxed and friendly manner came a little more nervous.

"Well, when I heard the explosion from the west wing I, uh, I knew something weird was goin' on. I figured… that there was a good chance the checkpoint wasn't secure, so I got everybody to the lobby where we could call for help." The man's eyes shifted about the common room as he explained.

"Everyone but Arthur Kirkland," Smith corrected.

"I don't know how he coulda got out!" the orderly exclaimed defensively. "The checkpoint door was locked and none of us was missin' a key!"

Not the type to let others do the questioning when he was present, America stepped forward and leaned on the table, it was then he noticed (with some pleasure) that the DCI's nose still hadn't healed properly from the punch America had given him. Smith was startled at his appearance and opened his mouth to protest when America cut across him.

"Seems like you did a lotta planning ahead, Mr…?"

"Reckson. Frank Reckson, sir," the orderly filled in nervously.

"All right, Frank," America repeated. "You thought to get everyone into the safety of the lobby. So apparently you're a smart guy, yeah?"

Frank looked away with what America thought was a dubious expression. "Yeah, apparently," he echoed.

"Except for letting Arthur Kirkland go."

Frank nodded uncomfortably.

"Didn't you do a head count, how didn't you notice there was someone missing?" a voice said.

America jumped. "Ahhh! Ghost!" he said, stumbling backwards.

Smith looked confused, "Wh-?"

"Dude! Don't sneak up on me like that! How many times do I have to tell you?" America demanded as he regained his composture.

Canada frowned, "I was with you the whole time."

"Were not!" America said, arms folded.

"Uhh... I'm sorry, who is this?" Frank the orderly cut in.

Smith's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I'd quite like to know as well, you can't just bring random people in here."

"This is my bro... err... Za-Can-de-errr..." America trailed off. "Names aren't important anyway"

Canada let out a heavy sigh, "It's Matthew."

America brightened up "Yeah! That's right! He comes from... that... place. Um, you know, the one above the greatest country on earth."

"Canada" Whispered Canada, who was becoming increasingly more irritated.

"Well what are you doing he-"

America cut Smith off once again with a loud "Now back to the questioning!"

Frank straightened up in his chair, as America pointed at him.

"Yo! Orderly dude! You did a head count, right? Why didn't you notice Kirkland was missing?"

"We were all panicking, it was madness! I didn't think to do a head count:"

"Well, **that** was stupid, wasn't it? You didn't keep an eye on him at all? What about the oth-"

DCI Smith interupted with a loud, fake cough. "I'm terribly sorry Mr. Jones, but I believe I am the one conducting the interview here." He said simply.

"But dude-"

"I also believe you were ordered to relinquish some case files to my team? Also there was the matter of telling me exactly why this case is so important and the significance of the victims, the culprit and yourself?" Smith said, standing up, "The prime minister still won't tell me you know. Says you have to say it yourself, due to some law or other. I must say it does intrigue me. Are you part of some sort of secr-"

Canada cut him off, "Suspect."

"I'm sorry, what?" Smith asked turning to face him.

Canada's eye twitched "Arthur Kirkland is a suspect not a 'culprit'. He's innocent until proven guilty"

Smith scoffed at this, "I thought your lot already _had_ proven him guilty, that why he was in here wasn't it? And we have it on record that he has violent sociopathic tendancies and hallucionations. The man is a schizophrenic, we have mountains of evidence against him, most of which _your brother_ compiled, not to mention the fact that your brother announced the man's guilt to not only myself but the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom! Determining Arthur Kirkland's guilt in this matter is a part of the investigation that is over, I am simply trying to find out the whole story."

Canada and Smith scowled at each other, both were silent but the tension between them was palpable.

Frank awkwardly cleared his throat, still sitting at the table. He immediantly regreted the action when both Canada and Smith turned their scowls to him. "Umm... Do you guys still need me here? I've told you pretty much all I know and... and... well, yeah."

"Fine, you may leave. Be sure to leave your details with the detective at the door in case we need to contact you for further questioning." Smith said.

Frank quickly made his way to the door.

"Wait! I wasn't finished with him yet!" America said loudly.

"I think you're forgetting that this isn't your case, not only are you finished with him, but you are also finished here. I want you to vacate the premisis immediantly and take your brother and those louts outside with you, the American aurthorities aren't wanted nor needed here. This is a crime scene, not a playground. Now run along, I've run out of patience with both of you."

America growled in frustration and stomped his way to the door. Canada not far behind.

"By the way, I need those case files off you, send them to me by the end of the week or I'll send some of my men over to retrieve them." Smith called to America's back.

America turned, just as he was at the door, "You want them? Come and get them yourself", he then left, slamming the door behind him

With an obvious threat hanging over his head, DCI Smith sighed and slumped back into his chair, he didn't like how difficult this case was getting. And then there was the question of the mysterious Mr. Jones, who had still not told him the link between himself, the victims and the 'suspect'. If he had that and the case files he might be able to figure things out. And... that toy bear Jones' brother had been holding... had it growled at him? Smith shook his head, surely it wasn't a real polar bear. Those long nights must be getting to him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

* * *

><p>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-<p>

England shifted slightly in his seat. The silence in the air was choking. The Italy brothers had gone out of the room to greave in privacy, leaving Japan and himself behind. Ordinarily, this wasn't a huge problem, England and Japan got on quite well, they were friends after all. But the circumstances they found themselves in weren't really what you would call "ordinary".

England's head turned towards Japan, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, as the Asian nation cleared his throat.

"E-England-san, perhaps we could go through the rest of what you remember. Maybe I can help you find some answers to this whole incident."

_Aaannndddd he's back to using honorifics again, it took me years to break him out of that habit. He's always way too polite._

"Just England is fine, Japan. We are friends, you know."

"Okay, sorry England-sa-... England." Japan said hurriedly.

Another thick silence was threatening to fill the room when Japan spoke again.

"So..."

"Oh, right. We were going through what I remember" England grimaced as he thought of how it had lead to the two Italians leaving the room in tears last time.

"Ah, yes. So can you remember who the last victim was? There were three in all"

"Of course I can't, otherwise I would've said before." England snapped.

...

"Sorry" England apologised

"That's alright England-san, you've been under a lot of stress and I was-"

"Just England." England corrected

"Right."

...

"I don't remember much about the murders... Nor do I remember much about my time in that horrid mental health facility. But I do know that France visited me at some point"

Japan looked surprised at this. "Oh, when?"

England lent back in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. "I'm not sure. Within the first week I think, I'm sure I hadn't been in there for long at the time. He was as useless as always though, he didn't give me any information. He just asked me how I was doing then left."

"That was all?" Japan asked, confusedly.

England nodded, "Yes, I'd expected him to tell me _something_ or at the very least gloat about me being in there. But nope, just asked how they were treating me and left. The great, useless French git ju- Wait. There was something else."

"What?"

"He gave me a letter, but I didn't recognise the sender and it didn't have anything useful written in it."

"Who was the sender?" Japan asked, with interest.

England wracked his brains thinking of the name. "Err... H. Callahan, I think it was."

"I'm afraid I don't recognise the name. Sorry" Japan said.

England sighed. "It's alright. But none of this changes the fact that I can't remember how I got into this mess in the first place."

"You just need to think harder"

"I **did**, I don't remember!" England snapped, standing up.

"Just try harder than." Japan said simply.

"It's not that easy, I told you I don't remember so I don't remember! Just tell me who the other victim was!" England growled.

"No, you have to try and remember on your own." Japan insisted, unfazed.

"Shan't." England said childishly.

"England..." Japan warned.

"Dammit, Japan, I said I don't remember! Just bloody** tell me**!" England shouted. He had reached his breaking point. He quickly made his way across the room and grabbed Japan roughly by the collar, forcing him against a nearby wall. "You promised me answers. Now be 'polite' and tell me: Who was the other victim? Why was I blamed for it? And why the hell do you all seem to think that I asked you to come here? I didn't even know this place was here!"

"E-England, what are you doing?" Japan cried out. "Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me!"

England suddenly tensed as he identified the sound of the hammer being drawn back on a revolver. With a furious curl of his lip he glanced over his shoulder to see Romano, with the loaded pistol not half a meter away. He'd managed to somewhat pull himself together, although his eyes were still red and watery.

"I leave the room for a few minutes and this is what happens, you crazy bastard!" Romano said, in a low voice. "This is exactly why I don't trust you."

"Look, England. You and I both know this isn't you. Just let go of me!" Japan said, trying to keep calm as England's angry eyes snapped back to him.

"Yeah, maybe you should let Japan go now." Italy pipped up

England did not loosen his grip on the other nation. "Stay out of this," he hissed. "Or-"

Before England could follow through with a rather malevolent threat, he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun back to Romano in time to see the man's fist go for his face. In a flash, England let go of Japan's collar and got a hand up to block, but didn't see the knee until it was too late. With a vulgar curse that he couldn't really remember himself saying any time previously, England doubled over, leaving his back wide open for another strike from Romano. The man was surprisingly strong and the hit sent him to the floor with a moan.

"Don't ever threaten my Fratello again." Romano spat.

"Romano, don't." Italy warned.

The light, cheerful tone that England had thought went hand in hand with North Italy was gone now and England looked up at his attacker, surprised to see South Italy serious, calm and collected. The man was rolling back up his sleeve which had come undone in the brief struggle. Italy had come out of the shadows to stand protectively by England while intelligently still being out of his reach. Japan stood behind them with a shocked expression on his face. England was furious. He managed to get himself up to his knees, but Romano's black shoe came streaking in, impacting with his side and toppling England back to the cement floor.

"Romano!" Italy grabbed his brother's arm. "I said don't."

"Why the hell not? He killed Spain, the bastard."

"I don't think he did! I don't think he could!" Italy protested.

"He attacked Japan! What more proof do you need?" Romano shouted.

"You're wrong!"

England chuckled callously from his curled up place on the ground. "Having domestic disputes, South Italy?"

"Shut up!" Romano yelled.

"Maybe you should just leave, I'm sure Italy and Japan will be more than enough help in this." England said.

"They didn't agree to help you and neither will I, you bastard," Romano shouted. "And do you really think they will help you now?"

"Well than leave! Better go quickly." England continued with a sneer. The pain that had been coursing through his tired body now channeled into a new overwhelming wish for brutality and he gave a long, mad laugh. "Maybe I didn't kill those other countries, but I am damn well goin' to kill _you_."

"England stop!" Japan demanded from behind Romano.

A mask of anger past over Japan's face and England found himself taking pleasure in the fact that he'd broken the polite and calm air of Japan, not once but twice in the same day. Even if it was only briefly. Japan pushed past Romano, his calm façade already restored and he spoke with a deadly seriousness. "England, I know this isn't you, we will help you. You aren't a murder. What happend to you?"

Romano made a sound of protest at that but Japan ignored it and continued. "Already you're becoming something you thought you could never be. The England I know isn't violent, maybe a little hot headed but... Let's just see what we can do. In any case, I don't believe you kille those countries. We'll help you find the true murderer."

Romano started up at this. "But he obviously ki-"

Japan silenced him with a wave of his hand. "You and I both know he didn't do it. I'm sure you want Spain's true murderer brought to justice."

"Come on Romano" Italy pleaded.

Romano sighed, "Fine... Bastards. But if he make one more move like that I'm putting a bullet in his head."

England wasn't listening to all this. He sat, curled into the fetal position, with his head buried into his arms, sobbing.

_What did I do? Why did I do that? A-Am I...?_

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><p>Sorry it's shorter than the last chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it.<p>

If you see any spelling mistakes, please let me know. My spell check hasn't been working lately. :S

Huge thanks to the following people for reviewing so far: SoraChiistar, ByteBug, DominiqueChevalier, Fake of Hypocrisy, MadzJoker, Hybrid, Amanda Opalis, Xaphrielle and paperklip119.

Also thank you to everyone who watched and favorited this fic.

Xaphrielle, Sorry for killing them off, that was really unawesome of me. As for the spoilers, where's the fun in that? I like to keep you guys guessing! Thanks for the review! :D


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone! Thanks for all of the reviews, this chapter is a little short, sorry. :)

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><p>Canada quickly walked behind his brother, taking two steps for every one of America's long strides. Stumbling as he attemped to keep up, he managed to stutter out a quiet "U-Umm, could you s-slow down a bit?"<p>

Either America didn't hear Canada or he ignored him, because the United States continued at full speed, eyes facing forward. Canada broke into a jog, to keep at his brother's side. As they made their way across the chaotic crime scene, Canada kept his eyes trained on his brother, it was near impossible to read the expression on his face. This frightened Canada, as his brother was usually wore his heart on his sleeve, you could always tell what he was feeling or thinking.

Truthfully that was one of the reasons that Canada was there, his brother had been becoming more and more distant and closed off since the murders and England's shock confession. When it had first happened everyone had expected America to defend England and try and prove him innocent, while proclaiming himself to be some kind of detective hero or some such thing, but he had been the one to roughly drag England from the room, leaving a large number of shocked countries in their wake. Since then all he seemed to be searching for was evidence against his former ward rather that something to prove his innocence. America almost never seemed to smile nowdays and when he did it always seemed forced, fake. Canada knew this wasn't a good sign so he'd come to help his brother.

That and he had hoped to find out more about England's case. All he knew was that England had had some kind of mental break and admitted to killing the three murdered countries in front of everyone in the last world meeting, noone had been told any details of what had happend, though they had all been questioned extensively by the authorities. Canada had to admit that England having a break down did not seem overly far-fetched. England had always seemed a tad stressed, a bit anti-social and a little crazy, but he'd never seemed violent as long as Canada had known him. But by all accounts something had made England crack.

Cracked or no, however, Canada didn't believe England was capable of murdering those countries. He just didn't have it in him.

"America, wh-"

"Gaaaahhh! Dude, quit sneaking up on me like that!"

"But I've been here the wh-... never mind."

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><p>-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-<p>

"England?" Japan said quietly, placing a hand on England's shoulder.

England just buried his head further into his arms.

"Come on, it's okay." Japan said, awkwardly trying to comfort him.

England shook his head, still not looking up. "No... it's not."

Japan sighed, "I know you didn't mean it. Perhaps we should all just put it all behind us. I'm sure Romano is sorry for what he did too."

England heard Romano let out a negative sounding grunt at this.

"No, that's not the problem. He was right to do what he did. I-I could've..." England trailed of, leaving a rather terrible thing unsaid.

"No, you wouldn't"

England let out an impatient huff, "I might! Look, it's probably just safer for you to all leave."

"No. You wouldn't hurt us and you didn't. You're innocent of those murders." Japan insisted.

"How can you be so sure?" England shot out.

"...Because you said you didn't do it. And there are a few things about this whole affair that don't add up."

England spoke up in protest, "Bu-"

Japan swiftly cut him off, "Besides what happened just then, what makes you think you may have done it? You can't base your judgement off one... errr... incident. You've been under alot of stress, nobody here blames you."

Romano let out a disbelieving snort.

"Does it matter?" England asked heatedly, looking up a Japan from his curled up ball on he floor.

"England" Japan urged sternly.

England looked ground-ward guiltily, he started picking at the rubber on his shoe and for some reason found himself confessing. "I've got these memories… Fragmented scenes, but they feel so real. How can I be remembering these things if I'm innocent?"

Japan paused to think about what England had just said. England kept his focus on the black rubber on his shoe sole, determined not to look up.

Presently, Japan piped up again, "I'm not sure... but perhaps we could find out. I don't believe you could commit such horrible crimes, but I suppose if we saw some evidence that pointed either way, we could find the truth."

England looked up once more and searched the other country's face. He seemed earnest enough. And though England had flipped out on him, Japan was still willing to have him around. That was either brave or stupid and England could not decide which. "Why?" he asked.

"I, er, find it difficult to make many friends. You've always been a good friend to me and I feel I know you well enough to be able to trust you." Japan said looking at his shuffling feet.

"Oh." England said, taken aback, "Thanks Japan." It was all he could say.

There was a slightly awkward silence in the room for a few moments when Romano spoke up, "All right, are we done with the chick flick?"

Sighing, England nodded, standing up as he did so and brushing the dust from the floor off his pants.

"I still don't trust you, crazy bastard!" Romano said, scowling.

"You said that before," England said as he turned slowly back to face Romano. The man stood stiffly, his face partly in shadow as sunlight shone in through the windows behind him.

"You threatened my brother and I." Romano growled, looking quite ominous.

"You knee'd me in the stomach" England said simply.

Romano's eye began to twitch, "That's no excuse! A-and you kil-"

"You don't believe he really did it do you?" Italy interrupted.

"You don't really believe he's innocent?" Romano countered.

"Ve~ Yes, I think he's innocent." Italy said, in his usual vague fashion, "Maybe you're just looking for someone to blame?"

Romano didn't answer, he just turned toward the door.

"Romano wait! I... wanted to apologise for my actions, they were unforgivable, the same goes to you Japan and Italy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." England said, looking upset.

Romano huffed, "Fine! We'll go and play your stupid little detective game Fratello! I still don't trust that crazy bastard!"

Italy nodded happily, "Ve~ Thank you Romano!"

Romano held out a finger, "I have one condition though! We keep that bastard in handcuffs or restrained or something. I don't wanna literally get stabbed in the back by this cr-"

"How about we vote for it?" Japan suggested quickly. "All those who agree to letting England come with us without any sort of restraint put your hand up" He said raising his own hand.

Italy's hand shot up but both Romano and England kept their hands down.

"England? Put your hand up." Japan ordered.

"No, you know why I agree with Romano." England said steadily.

"So you agree with with my brother, England?" Italy asked brightly.

"Yes."

"So Romano, that means you agree with England, right?" Italy asked.

"N-yes... I mean..." Romano said, looking conflicted. Appearing to be torn between wanting to disagree with whatever England said and wanting to stay safe from the 'crazy bastard'.

"Yay, so there's something you can agree with him on?" Italy asked, smiling.

Romano shook his head violently, "No!"

"You don't agree with him? That means you agree with us!" Italy stated, "So England, you don't need to wear handcuffs or anything! Isn't that great!"

England was impressed, as much as he hated to admit it, it seemed that the Italian was a lot smarter than he'd thought. He saw that Japan had a similar look of impressed disbelief on his face.

Romano, however, was far from impressed, "Ahhh, no! You're little reverse psycholo-whatever trick won't work on me! I agree with the crazy bastard, he needs to be restrained!" He yelled.

Japan and Italy let out similar frustrated sighs. The was a small silence, when Japan spoke up again.

"So our vote is still tied, two to two." He said, looking around at the others, they nodded.

"Sooo... want to play rock paper scissors for it?" He asked.

Nods turned into facepalms.

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><p>Gigantic thanks to the following people for reviewing the last chapter: paperklip119, xXYoraXx and teitan-tantei.<p>

You reviewers really motivate me to get the chapters out and each and every review just makes my day. :)

paperklip119- Awww, serious? Thanks! I got a huge cheezy grin on my face after reading this. And thanks for pointing out that spelling mistake. :D


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